


you couldn't hide it, hide it from me

by tuomniia



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Other, panic attack tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29474559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuomniia/pseuds/tuomniia
Summary: They take shallow, quick breaths through their nose. Chest rising and falling rapidly like a scared rabbit; caught in the merciless jaws of a wolf. Their entire body shakes violently, but she knows. Knows it isn’t the cold that makes their muscles seize like this. The wolves of winter may have Ava in their icy teeth, but something much more sinister has its fangs buried in Cameron.
Relationships: Detective/Ava du Mortain, Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Kudos: 7





	you couldn't hide it, hide it from me

Ava had noticed it before the detective had even entered the room. Heard their heart slamming so hard inside their chest, she thought it must hurt. Their chest rising and falling slightly faster than usual. Quick breaths, quick heart. She knew. She knew. 

_She knows._

Cameron entered the common room seeming relaxed and easy-going as they always do. Settled into the chair in the corner, limbs splayed over the arms, as they always do. Gives her their trademark smirk, as they always do. If Ava were a human with lesser senses, she might not have noticed anything is wrong at all.

They meet Farah’s eyes and an easy grin falls into its natural place on their lips. However, the thundering of their heart is distracting. Despite this, Ava manages to turn her focus to the task at hand. She has an update from the agency, about Murphy. With hindsight, she would have known better than to mention him today. _No_ , she should have known better beforehand. She knows how the detective is struggling to move past what he did. She knows.   
  
The rest of the team have noticed Cameron’s energy as well, and they all share uneasy glances. Not at all as focused as Ava would like them to be. Nat in particular keeps glancing at the detective, concern darkening her already her dark eyes. She doesn’t try to tuck the concern away, as Ava does. 

She will ask the detective if they’re alright after this, it’s decided. In private, as not to make them feel cornered by the group. She’s had her suspicions about the state of their mental health before. Hopes that they’ll be honest, but does not expect it. 

Watching Cameron hold easy small talk with Farah as they wait, she wonders —Ava has had centuries to master hiding her own thoughts and emotions— wonders how Cameron has become so adept in such a short time. Perhaps it is a product of their upbringing.

When everyone has finally settled in the room, Ava draws a short breath, and begins her debriefing.

She does not stutter, does not hesitate. Does not misplace a single word. But the entire time, her mind keeps straying to the detective. Who, while everyone else is watching her— her and not them— is staring out the window. Muscles in their jaw twitch. 

Their mind is far, far away from here. Lost somewhere in the howling storm outside.

“— We haven’t been able to get any more information out of Murphy —as you already know— despite continued questioning—” 

Their heart stops, stutters, and begins to race at the mention of his name. Crashing about inside their chest like a wild animal cornered by threat of fire. Their expression remains plain, unaffected. Mouth— a straight line, which is strange but not unheard of. No smirk, or hints of amusement. No clever joke to ease the tension of the room. They look this way when they’re tired, too. 

The careful facade begins to crumble, the colour leaves their face. It’s sudden. A quick draw of breath. Parting of their lips, subtle attempts to bring air into their lungs she suspects. It echoes in her ears. It’s the only sound in the room that she hears with any true clarity. Everything else is muffled by water. She answers Farah’s questions about the updates mechanically, flawlessly, but her attention is on the detective. So is everyone else’s.

Cameron stands from the chair they’d been sitting in, smiling at Nat, dismissing her concern. Excusing themselves quietly from the room, they turn and leave without a single glance over their shoulder. Long, quick steps. The thundering drumbeat of their heart leaves with them. 

Nat turns back to her. Questioning, concerned. She needn’t say anything, Ava already knows what she’s thinking. Excusing herself as well, Ava follows the detective. Farah attempts to trail at her heels, but Nat and Morgan still her, for which Ava is eternally thankful. 

The halls are empty. Silent. 

But she knows. Knows where they’ve fled to. Even if she couldn’t hear the distant beats of their galloping heart, even if the scent of panic didn’t hang in the air, an invisible trail. She would know. 

* * *

The roof is high above the ground. Giving it the illusion of being far away from the rest of the world. Something separate. A pocket, a safe-haven. It isn’t higher than the trees, but still high enough that the wind will come down from above. The detective often comes here when they cannot find sleep. When sleep is farthest from their minds, or if they’ve been chased here by the beasts that stalk their nightmares. 

_“I feel calmer up here. Like I can breathe. My problems… they just feel like they’re less, somehow. Up here. Up here, and with you.”_  
  
The memory is clear in her mind. One of her favourites, she thinks. With the detective. They’d sat next to each other on the ledge in silence. Cameron close enough to touch, but she hadn’t. Felt content, almost as she does with Nat but. Something else, and altogether new. — Together, revelling in the cool breeze that rose from the still of the dark forest floor, they shared silent conversation. The nighttime gusts bringing with them the scents of the night, and cedar, and soil. 

Today, the wind is cold. Bitter. Unforgiving and frigid, it cuts through Ava’s clothes like a sharp blade and sinks the serrated edge into her skin. Tears at her clothing and demands to make itself known, but she denies them. Her concern lies not in herself, but in the detective.

Snow— coating everything. Thick blankets of it. Drifts, carved by the razor winds, conceal the gravel roof. Change the landscape from flat to rolling. From safe to treacherous. 

And— it’s white. Everything is white. It’s blinding. Pain lances through her temples at the brightness of it all. She brings her arm up in a useless attempt to shield her eyes of it all.

A particularly harsh gust of wind howls over the roof and stirs up loose powder in giant rolling clouds. Reaching high up and disappearing into yet more white.

It’s spring, technically. But it seems that winter refuses to release her claws just yet. Sending one last tumultuous storm before she disappears for another year. Assuring herself that she won’t be easily forgotten.

Stealing herself, Ava sets out across the roof. Leaving the meagre shelter provided by the door and its accompanying overhang, and into the unforgiving and slicing torrents of snow. 

They’re leaning over the farthest ledge. Palms gripping the icy buildup that’s gathered on the small concrete barrier that skirts the edges of the roof. Nails dug deep into the ice, so hard that the joints have turned white— like the snow. 

Wind whips their hair around their face, ripping it out of the loose braid they had been wearing today. The red hues in their hair are a stark contrast to the white that surrounds them. There’s so much snow flying around that not even Ava can see through it all. It’s only her and Cameron, and the roof. Everything else is a colossal wall of white. Cameron’s hair is the only warm thing in the endless and unforgiving sea of nothing.

The sound of their heartbeat is drowned out by the wind, the ice, and the raw shuddering gasps coming from their throat. Cameron’s shoulders are tight from their heaving, trying desperately now to bring air into their lungs. For some relief.

“Detective.” She calls, loud enough to be heard over the wind storm. 

Saying nothing in response, they lean forward. A quick jerking motion. Dry heaving into the white nothing over the edge. They shudder and cough, and heave again. Nothing comes up, she notices. They haven’t eaten anything today. 

Stepping forward, Ava comes into place at their side. She can see the muscles under their shirt tighten again with the strain as their stomach forces more bile up their throat. The sound is raw, painful; and Ava’s heart stretches itself towards them in sympathy. 

“Detective.” She reaches to gently touch their shoulder. 

A miscalculation. 

She’s leaned in too close. Not given enough warning. Whatever the reason, Cameron sucks in a sudden breath and their elbow flies up and connects hard with Ava’s jaw with tremendous force. 

_Crack!_

For such a tiny person, they have quite the backhand. She winces and stumbles back a step. Tentatively, she touches the sore spot. It will cease to hurt in seconds, but the power behind it had staggered her. 

Cameron stumbles away from her, backwards. Tripping over ice hidden below the deceptive surface of snow beneath them. Lands in a particularly deep drift, legs tangled beneath them. The powder falls into their lap and sticks to their shirt. They don’t move to get up. Eyes wide, staring at Ava but not seeing her. Seeing a threat, but not seeing Ava.

They take shallow, quick breaths through their nose. Chest rising and falling rapidly like a scared rabbit; caught in the merciless jaws of a wolf. Their entire body shakes violently, but she knows. Knows it isn’t the cold that makes their muscles seize like this. The wolves of winter may have Ava in their icy teeth, but something much more sinister has its fangs buried in Cameron.

Blinking back the quickly fading ache of their terror fuelled blow, she brings her hands out in front of her. So that Cameron may see her every movement. Slowly, slowly, she approaches and crouches down in front of them. Careful not to touch them this time. 

“Cameron,” she calls again, firm but gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m not going to harm you.” 

Another gust of wind cuts across the roof. Coming down like an axe from the heavens, and throwing stinging powdered ice into her eyes. The frost of it burns swathes of her skin. 

“Cam.” She repeats, resting on her knees, the cold of the snow seeps into her skin. She worries that the cold is seeping through Cameron too. They wear nothing but their plain skinny jeans and a t-shirt, and it’s easily dipping far into the negatives out here. The tips of their nose, their fingers, are red from it.

“Cam, tell me how to make this better.” She whispers to them, as softly as she can. Needing to lean in close to be heard. 

They open their mouth, and she thinks that they’re going to reply. But they gasp. And again, and again, and again. Hyperventilating. 

Their hands fly up to their head, where they grip the back of their neck. Nails digging into the skin, desperate. Trying to pull themselves back down, she thinks. Trying, and failing.

Without giving too much thought, she reaches out. Slowly, as not to spook them again, and gently touches their elbows. They jerk, but don’t lash out. She slowly, slowly, slowly ghosts her fingers up the length of their arms, to their wrists. Keeping them aware of her every movement, every intention. Ava wraps her fingers around their hands. They are like ice. 

Their heart is roaring so loud that it’s matching the wind, it’s hard to think above the sound of it all. Bits of ice and snow whip around, stinging and cutting all exposed skin. Her thumb accidentally grazes the skin of their neck. It’s hot. Damp with sweat and with melting snow. They jerk at the touch, but she keeps her grip. 

As she gently prys their hands loose and brings them down into the space between them, her fingers brush the insides of their wrist. Feels the profuse power of their pulse, pulsing under fingertips. It is distracting, tempting, but she pulls away to grip their hands again. They are shaking so hard that it reverberates through to her. 

“Cameron.” She murmurs, leaning a little closer to see their eyes. They lock onto her with fierce intensity. Pupils blown so wide that she almost can’t see the lovely brown of them. Instead, they are almost completely black. Dark pits, a reflection of their internal torment. Even so, she has them. They hear her, see her. At last.

Cameron’s hands, usually so merciful and lithe, grip hers with the strength of iron. Nails digging in as they had in their neck. She ignores the bite of it, as she has been ignoring all other discomforts, for these will pass, and keeps them firmly in her grasp.

“I c-can’t. He’s- His teeth. Hurt’s. Murph-” They can’t even get his name out, they choke and take a rattling breath and return to hyperventilating. 

Ava nods, understanding. “He’s not here. I am.”  
  
Another shudder passes through them. They’re going to pass out if they keep breathing this way. 

Slowly, she runs her thumbs over their hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Their skin has turned to ice, but it retains its softness.

“Breathe with me.” Voice firm, but low, she shimmies just a little closer to be heard over the wind, which is screaming in her ears. Howling high, and loud. 

She takes a dramatic breath, deep and slow. Then lets it out, slower. And repeats. They are almost pressed completely against her now. Their shoulders curve towards her, taking shelter in the promise of her safety. 

Chestnut hair tangles and untangles in front of Cameron’s adrenaline darkened eyes, tendrils of flame alive in the freezing air, and they nod. Shuddering and choking on the first breaths, they cough, but they are breathing. Are trying. And as they slow down, the rattle leaves their chest, the raw grating sounds fade. Until they don’t need Ava to guide them through it, they’re breathing normally on their own. 

Cameron’s grip on her hands loosens, but doesn’t release.

“I’m sorry.” They tell her, voice hoarse and weak. The tension leaving them in a rush, they slump forward. Forehead pressed against her shoulder. She allows them this, and allows herself to be comforted by the sound of their voice unhindered by pain of memory. Allows herself to be warmed by their touch. Just for a moment.

In all her ignorance of the elements, she had been ignoring her own fear. Her worry. Drawing a deep breath, she pushes the detective away gently. Pushes away her fear.

“There is no need to be.” Ava stands and pulls them to their feet with her. They stumble, legs shaking from the adrenaline of their panic attack. But they don’t release her hands, and she doesn’t make them. 

“Thank you.” The same, exhausted voice. 

“Of course.” 

Taking a weak, shuddering breath, Cameron looks away from her. “Bad day.” 

Ava nods, “I know.” 

They shiver as another gust of wind blasts the two of them. She isn’t sure how they’re still tolerating it. How she is.

“You should get inside, where it’s warm.” Ava suggests, beginning to let go of their hands.

They tighten their grip, and Ava pauses, glancing down. Though they are shivering, lips turning blue, they seem reluctant to move. 

Understanding their unspoken reservation, she slowly disentangles just one of her hands, but keeps the other in their shivering grip. They say nothing, but nod to her. Still avoiding her eye. 

Her own heart trips, stumbles, then rights itself clumsily as they lace their fingers between hers. Timidly at first, then more firmly. Perhaps finding the contact grounding, or perhaps they need the support. Perhaps… it is more. But she doesn’t allow herself to think on this. On how —despite the regretful circumstances— the weight of their hand in hers feels natural.

Cameron shudders again, this time entirely from the cold, of this she is sure. Ava tightens her grip on their hand, just slightly, and leads them back into the building. They follow her, on her heel. Never venturing more than a few inches from her side.

Leading them back down into the warm belly of the warehouse, the pair of them bypass the rest of the unit and Ava brings the detective directly to their bedroom. Having to guide them inside, as they don’t seem entirely back in the present yet. 

Now that they’re in the warm, the dry, the snow that has collected on them both has begun to melt. Dampening their clothes. Ava suppresses a shiver, but the detective does not. 

Cameron doesn’t let go of her hand. Ava doesn’t pull away. They stand, swaying in front of her. Holding on, but their attention has landed on the white light from the window. The wind has tangled their hair. It’s wild and falling haphazardly in their eyes. Dripping melting ice onto their cheeks and falling down from their chin. They could be tears, but their warm eyes are dry. 

Ava shifts slightly, to better see their face. “Are you alright?” 

Cameron takes a slow breath, slow to answer, slow. They shiver. Ice water falls from the gentle curve of their jaw. 

“Yeah.” The rasp eventually, turning away from the window. The colour has returned to their eyes, to their face. The slant of their mouth is back, the one she thinks of during the night when the detective is nowhere near. Though it’s fragile, and not quite whole yet. 

She wants. 

Wants to brush the hair from their eyes. To dry the ice from their skin. Pull the damp fabric from their shoulders, and kiss their curve. Gentle, warm. To- 

She clears her throat, banishing the thoughts with such ferocity that she stuns herself. Cameron notices simultaneously as she does that they’re still holding hands and that it’s been quite much too long. They let go before Ava can.

Swallowing back the hollow that replaces the sensation of their hand in hers, she watches them run their fingers through their hair. Pulling out the knots and tangles, and shucking lingering clumps of snow onto the ground carelessly. Busywork for their hands.

“Uhm,” Cameron glances up from the ground, where they’d taken to staring. White light catches their eyes, warming them to amber. Ava has to take a breath to steady herself. “Thank you. Again. I’m alright, though. You don’t have to stay… Uh.” 

Ava’s jaw tightens. “I just want to be assured you’re alright.” 

“I am.” They smile, to prove their point. Their heart has picked up again, but she doesn’t think its panic this time. “Please, be assured.” 

Nodding, Ava moves to step away. To leave them alone, to their privacy. 

Cold fingers grip her wrist suddenly, and she whirls. She is reminded quite suddenly of that afternoon in the detective’s apartment. When it was raining. Just before Murphy attacked and brought forth the worst night of her life in a very, very long time. The light touch pins her to the spot just as much now as it had then. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. And she doesn’t.

Her jaw tightens, realizing that the detective has pulled her back towards them. They hesitate for a beat, for two. Then they let go of her wrist, moving towards her and wrapping their slender arms around her middle, hooking up under her arms and pulling themselves closer still. Lithe hands resting gently between her shoulder blades. Palms pressed against her, she knows they can feel her heart’s longing through her skin. 

“Detective-”  
  
“Shut up.” Cameron murmurs, breath hot on her neck. They’ve pressed their face into her shoulder. She can feel them drawing a deep breath, the expansion of their ribs against hers. Her heart trips, squeezes, and pines for more. 

Their breath whispers over her skin. Trailing goosebumps and shivers brought on by more than just the chill. “Hug me back.”

She shouldn’t. She should detach, and leave. There is a boundary, and they’re so far past it, she’s sure if she looks back that it would be lost.

But her arms come up, and she allows it. Allows herself to be held, and allows herself to embrace her detective. To want for more, just for a moment. Feeling their heart steady itself against her. For their scent, tainted with winter iron, to fill her senses. Pulls them closer still. 

Entirely without meaning to, she closes her eyes and presses her cheek against their head. They are so very warm, and all of their curves fit into her as a puzzle piece does its partner. She is not sure where the rest of the world has disappeared to, but she doesn’t concern herself with it. For once. 

It is just Ava, and Cameron, and the weight of their breathing against her chest. The heat of their skin against hers. The sensation of them pressing harder against her, even though there is no more space to take. 

Eventually, much too soon, Cameron sighs. Ava doesn’t want to let go, and that terrifies her. When Cameron’s arms fall from her back, slow and hesitant, she has to swallow the disappointment. Stuffs it somewhere hidden, where she won’t have to think about it anymore.

Cameron traces their fingers down her back during their slow retreat, following the groves between muscles, and in their wake Ava is left wanting again. But they step back. Slow. It’s all so slow. Hesitant and regretful. They swallow. 

“I think I would like to get some rest now.” They murmur, smiling faintly. 

Ava nods. “Or course. I’ll leave you then.” 

Cameron nods back to her. Eyes trailing Ava as she briskly leaves the room. Leaves the wanting behind, or so she tries. 

When she shuts the door, she turns to find Farah standing against the door frame. Grinning, as she always is. 

“They really have their hooks in you, hmm?” 

Ava growls, and doesn’t deign her with a response. Storming past her to go and change into something dryer, and to try and forget how it felt to hold, and to be held in return.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ tuomniia


End file.
